


homesick for a memory washed away

by Solanaceae



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, playing fast and loose with canon don't come at me for inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: There is always some emergency, always some impending doom looming over the galaxy. This is the way of things. The secret is to always face it with calm and determination and - above all - rationality.Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you'll never make it through the night.





	homesick for a memory washed away

_ Do you remember when we first met? _ Leia asks. They are in her quarters, lying side-by-side on her bed, catching their breath in a rare moment of peace. 

Amilyn nods.  _ I thought you hated me. _

_ I thought you were the oddest person I’d ever met, _ Leia chuckles. 

_ And I thought you were the most irritatingly overachieving princess I had ever met. _ She rolls over to face Leia, brings a hand up to brush gray hair out of her face. Still that fire in her eyes, the same as Amilyn had seen when she had met the Alderaanian princess at the Apprentice Legislature on Coruscant. The fire she fell in love with, over the years.

_ And I’m no longer that? _ Leia quirks an eyebrow. Amilyn smiles.

_ Now you’re the most irritatingly competent general I’ve ever met. _

A bird alights on the sill of the skylight, colorful head tilting back and forth as it peers into Leia’s bedroom. D’Qar is a jungle planet, and this base dates from the days of the Rebel Alliance, built mostly underground except for a few places where it pokes out of the tree roots and into the undergrowth of the forest. Now, it houses the Resistance. Amilyn has grown used to the hot and humid air, the strange fauna. Leia still hates it, she can tell, but the general never complains. Not where others can see, at least. 

The intercomm crackles to life, calling for General Leia. Amilyn can feel the tension flowing back into Leia, the heavy cloak of duty settling over her shoulders. Her own mask slips into place easily - smooth, unflappable Vice Admiral Holdo - and she sits up, straightening her clothing, smoothing her hair down.

There is always some emergency, always some impending doom looming over the galaxy. This is the way of things. The secret is to always face it with calm and determination and - above all - rationality.

She smiles at Leia.  _ Ready? _

Leia inclines her head. 

 

***

 

Coruscant is thousands of light years away, ancient seat of a government fallen and rebuilt and faded beyond recognition. Amilyn has not seen it for years; fighting back the First Order has kept her moving, commanding ships and standing at Leia’s side when she is needed. Still, sometimes she dreams she is back in the Galactic City, zipping through artificially lit air in a speeder. 

Once, during their Apprentice Legislature days, she and Leia had “borrowed” a speeder from a senator and gone as far as they could, trying to lose their way in the maze of transparisteel and duracrete. She closes her eyes and remembers the wind in Leia’s hair, the wildness in her dark eyes, the laughter on her lips. Remembers lifting her hands from the speeder’s controls to tangle them in that whipping hair, kiss her as the city blurred past.

Sometimes, she imagines how their lives would have unfolded if it were not for the Empire - fellow senators, building political connections and alliances and a life. 

(When she finds out who Leia’s father was, she understands: without the Empire, she would have never met Leia. The princess would have been a Jedi, concerned with matters beyond Amilyn’s comprehension. Amilyn would have been - no one.

She wonders sometimes if she would trade that, trade the entire galaxy just to have a chance to know Leia.)

 

***

 

The Resistance is stretched thin, mostly unacknowledged by the New Republic, fighting a battle the Galactic Senate will not admit exists. It wears on Leia, Amilyn can see, but if the princess was a strong senator, she is an ever stronger general, like a pillar of iron rising above the chaos. Amilyn has seen her quell even the most rebellious of pilots with little more than a glance and a few choice words.

Leia is  _ good _ with people, even with how direct she is, in a way that Amilyn has never been. She does not mind. Each person has their own strength, and if her role is to support Leia, then she will support her until her last breath.

 

***

 

One night, Leia and Amilyn climb to the top of the nearest mountain peak, their breath fogging in the silver light reflected off the planetary ring. It is the colder season on D’Qar, which means little except that sometimes, the temperature at night dips, and it rains more often. Tonight is a rare clear night.

They spread out across the grass, hands entangled and heads touching. Amilyn feels the dampness of the dew soaking into the back of her dress, but she pays it no heed. Leia is a warm, breathing presence beside her, and the two women share the silence in a comfort that speaks to their many years of knowing each other.

_ I can still see it, you know, _ Leia says suddenly. Amilyn frowns.

_ See what? _

_ Alderaan. _

Of course. Amilyn knows the galaxy well, knows this particular view of it intimately after having spent some time here. Her eyes drift across the heavens, to the distant speck of light she knows Leia is looking at as well. They are many light years from that star, far enough away that the light of Alderaan’s destruction has not reached this place yet. If they had the right equipment, they could even look and see the planet itself, whole and untouched. 

_ You still mourn it, _ Amilyn says, and it is not a question. She feels Leia nod.

_ Who would not? _

Who indeed. Amilyn suspects that the reason this particular wound feels so fresh is because Leia keeps returning to it - she cannot heal something she does not leave alone, give space to breathe. Leia can be obsessive, determined to push her way through inconsequential things - but Alderaan is a gaping hole in the night sky, and it has been years but Amilyn knows Leia still dreams of the flash of light, the scattered remnants of her home.

Some things never heal. This is the way of things. 

 

***

 

Amilyn had visited Alderaan with Leia many times, but they only traveled to Amilyn’s home planet once. Ever since she was a child, Amilyn yearned to escape Gatalenta, suffocated by the peaceful austerity there - she has little reason to wish to return, and part of her feels ashamed of the tranquil, serene planet that felt so dull in comparison to glittering Coruscant or vibrant Alderaan. 

But Leia insists on visiting at least once, and so Amilyn has no choice. Leia is a senator, by now, focused on forging political alliances, undermining the Empire in any way she can, be it through the Senate or the Rebellion. Amilyn has largely stepped out of the political sphere, preferring to channel her leadership skills into commanding the Rebel fleet. 

They spend three days on Gatalenta, and Amilyn has never enjoyed herself on that planet as much as she does during that time. It is the third day, and they stand on a bridge over a bubbling river, in the time of dimmer light that they call evening, though they never have a true night, not when they have multiple suns gracing their sky.

_ I wish all days could be like this, _ Leia says, and Amilyn stares at her.

_ What do you mean? _

_ It’s so - quiet. And bright. And--  _ she trails off, shrugging. Two of Gatalenta’s suns are out at the moment, competing gold and pale white light illuminating the sweep of her hair, gathered into two buns.  _ Sometimes it’s nice to have a moment to catch your breath. _

_ You would grow bored here within a week, _ Amilyn says, and Leia laughs, though she had not intended it as a joke. 

 

***

 

When things happen, they happen all at once. 

The destruction of Hosnian Prime signals the fall of the New Republic. The Galactic Senate, the entire Hosnian system, and countless ships of the New Republic fleet: obliterated. In a matter of minutes, the Resistances seems to become the last thing standing between the First Order and complete galactic dominion. 

Leia returns from Takodana with Han Solo, and Amilyn lets herself fade into the shadows, purposefully avoiding them. What she and Leia share goes back a long, long time - friendship, camaraderie, infatuation, love - and she knows how boundless Leia’s heart is, her infinite capacity to love bigger than the galaxy itself, but she also knows that some wounds - Alderaan, Han Solo - are too raw for even her gentle fingers. Solo leaves, and does not come back.

Later, when the crisis has passed, when Starkiller Base is destroyed, Amilyn finds Leia standing in the shadow of the base, removed from the celebrating crowd. 

_ We won the battle, _ she says to Amilyn without looking at her.  _ But I fear what comes next. _

Amilyn worries that the losses they have faced - the losses they have yet to face - will tear a hole in Leia’s vast and loving heart. She does not say this. Instead, she wraps her arms around her general, buries her face in the shorter woman’s hair. Leia smells like the earth, like gold sun through green leaves. 

_ It will be as the Force wills, _ she breathes, and Leia nods. 

 

***

 

Later, in the dark, Amilyn runs her fingers down Leia’s back, outlining the curve of her spine, the knots of vertebrae at the back of her neck. Wonders how it would feel to be Force sensitive, to know the power that burns under Leia’s skin. 

She met Luke, back during the days of the Rebellion, in the rush of euphoria after the Battle of Endor. He and his sister shared a similar inhuman air - no, not inhuman, merely  _ more _ human, more connected to everything, more  _ alive. _ She feels that in Leia, in moments of quiet like this: the hum of something just out of hearing, the faint taste of electricity on Leia’s skin.

She knows little about the Force, but knows that Leia has the potential to be a Jedi rivaling her brother. Leia chose this path instead, to command loyalty as a general rather than a mystical warrior.

_ What do we have left? _ she asks Leia, and Leia turns towards her. In the dimness, her eyes are dark blurs against her pale face. 

_ We have the Resistance. We have ourselves. We have hope. _

_ Do we even have hope, anymore? _

_ Hope is like the sun. _ Leia’s voice is warm steel, her hands against Amilyn’s face. _ If you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night.  _

 

***

 

They flee D’Qar with the First Order on their heels, jumping to lightspeed bloodied and hurting from the losses of their bombers. Amilyn feels Leia’s rage, her grief, but not her fear - never fear. 

_ We cannot outrun them forever, _ she tells Leia. The general nods.

_ We can only hope. The closest planet is Crait. If we could reach the base there-- _

_ I do not think we can make it that far. Not without great sacrifice. _

Leia’s eyes are embers, staring out the viewport at the Dreadnought pursuing them.  _ Then we sacrifice what we need to, for the Resistance to continue. _

Amilyn is not on the bridge when the First Order starfighters attack, but she feels the  _ Raddus _ tremble, hears the screams and the sudden thud of depressurized hull being blown out. Knows that Leia is there, is - no longer there.  

 

***

 

Leia’s young face, lit by Gatalenta’s multiple suns, smiling wistfully.  _ I wish all days could be like this.  _ The same face, but lined with age, fire replaced with tempered heat.  _ Hope is like the sun. _

 

***

 

What she should have said, what she did not have time to say:  _ you are my sun and my hope, Leia. You are the light I believe in. _

 

***

 

When they tell her Leia is alive - pulled in from the vacuum of space, impossibly - she nearly starts crying right there. Strange, when all she had felt at hearing that the bridge had been destroyed had been an overwhelming, chilling numbness, like her heart had been exposed to the cold emptiness outside their hull. 

_ She’s in critical condition, _ the medic tells her, and she nods and nods along to her words, barely hearing her over the drumming in her ears,  _ she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive.  _

But there is the fleet to think of, the Dreadnought still pursuing them, and hardly any time to feel relief. 

 

***

 

When Dameron mutinies, she curses herself - she should have seen it coming, she should have  _ stopped  _ it, because  _ Leia _ could have foreseen it, would not have even allowed it to happen - but there is little she can do but scramble to pick up the pieces of her plan.

She is at the door of the deck Dameron has barricaded himself in, impatient, ready to open fire with her own blaster on the door, when she feels a hand on her arm. She whirls, a rebuke rising that dies in her mouth as her eyes meet Leia’s gaze.

The general leans on a cane, and a deep exhaustion lurks in her eyes, but she gives Amilyn a nod. 

_ You’re awake, _ Amilyn says, stupidly. The corner of Leia’s mouth twitches.

_ Unfortunately. Poe is in there? _ When Amilyn nods, Leia holds out her hand for Amilyn’s Defender 5. Amilyn hands the blaster over.

And things feel  _ right _ again, just for a moment: Leia striding forward, Amilyn behind her.

 

***

 

She knows Leia will mourn her, can barely touch the outline of the thought of how much pain another death will cause Leia, but she cannot let the Resistance die, so she sends Leia with the transports and watches them leave, hands at her side and head held high until they are mere glimmers in the distance. 

The  _ Raddus _ echoes with emptiness. She paces the deck, aware of each footfall, each beat of her heart. The ghost of Leia’s touch lingers, their hands pressed together for the last time.  _ May the Force be with you _ .

When the Dreadnought starts firing on the transports, she feels something in her chest snap. Fury, grief, but no fear.

_ You will not touch Leia again, _ she spits at the hulking mass of the Dreadnought visible through the viewport.

 

***

 

_ Hope is like the sun. _

_ If you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night. _

 

***

 

It takes mere minutes to turn the ship around, but in that time, she sees a handful more transports go up in plumes of flame. The Dreadnought is massive, blocks out the stars before her. They have to have noticed her, but they do not know what she plans to do. 

Amilyn closes her eyes, then opens them again. She will face this as Leia would have, were she in her place: open-eyed, unflinching.

Her hand tightens on the control, and there is a split second before the ship jumps to lightspeed where everything goes still. Then the blur of the stars, her ship arrowing across the distance between it and the Dreadnought. 

Leia’s name is on her lips, the general’s face in her mind’s eye, brown eyes bright with the fire of memory.

There is a moment of utter, untranslatable silence, and then only the light. 


End file.
